


The Bodyguard

by lunaofthemiste



Category: Battle for London in the Air (Roleplay)
Genre: Espionage!, Gen, Immortal Illuminati AU, Semi-Historical, a series of increasingly awkward events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25454845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaofthemiste/pseuds/lunaofthemiste
Summary: Told over two years; Oscar finds himself in a unique position within the Tyler household.
Kudos: 4





	1. 7th of December, 1891

Oscar discreetly adjusted his tie as he followed the butler through the manor, stealing a glance at a nearby mirror to do so. It was absolutely imperative that he land this job for the agency, especially after they carefully crafted a cover for him to use, so the first impression with the house steward was of utmost importance. The posting in the paper had been incredibly vague, but the Agency had determined the position was a valet for the Honorable Tyler, Baron Tyler’s son and a potential hopeful in the upcoming election. Oscar’s goal was to determine the political views of the Honorable Tyler, and either persuade or dissuade him from running. It was political espionage, something Oscar wasn’t used to.

He did his best not to gape in awe or look too wildly around at the decorations in the hallway of the manor. Oscar usually worked with rebellions, blending in easily in taverns and barns. After all, it was how he was recruited, and how he influenced and recruited in the years since. The people in those rebellions were usually working-class, like himself, so it was easy to feel comfortable among them. The manors of the upper class were something he wasn’t as familiar with, and he could feel himself tensing up unconsciously. 

The Tyler manor was on the edge of London, but was accessible enough should anyone want to go into the main city, which the family did frequently. Of course, the staff of the household would have fewer travel privileges, so Oscar would need to rely on letters to send in his reports. Oscar had made sure to study up on the family and general rules for running a household prior to his arrival at the manor, hoping to make the best impression. His position as a valet would put him around the middle of the pecking order, and if he befriended the Baron’s son, hopefully more privileges as well.

The butler led Oscar to an office where he expected to meet the house’s steward, but he instead saw Baron Tyler, sitting at a lavish desk in the middle of the even more lavishly decorated room. As he entered, he noticed that the steward was already there, standing behind the Baron. The older man looked up at Oscar, frowning. “This is the one you’ve selected from the advert?” He asked the steward.

The steward nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmph,” Baron Tyler looked Oscar up and down. “What about his experience? He looks young.” He commented.

Oscar would have laughed if he hadn’t been so nervous. The steward carefully placed a file on the Baron’s desk. “Military, sir. He also had several recommendations, sir.” The recommendations the steward saw had thankfully been arranged by the agency to secure the interview in the first place. Luckily, the contacts the IIA had in government allowed for the easy forgery of military files, so if the steward had investigated Oscar, it would have all checked out.

The Baron took the file and looked it over for what felt like forever before looking back at Oscar. “Who did you serve under?” He asked.

“General Kitchener, sir,” Oscar answered, changing his accent so he sounded Northern instead of Irish.

“Hmph,” Baron Tyler seemed impressed. “He’ll do,” he said to the steward, before addressing Oscar once again. “This position is not the one you were expecting, in fact, it is rather unique. But, given your experience, I’m sure it will not be an issue.”

Oscar was about to question what he meant by unique when the door opened. A young woman, around Oscar’s age, entered. She wore a long, green dress, and her dark hair was piled on top of her head. Unfortunately, she looked very unamused. “You asked to see me?” She asked the Baron, not paying attention to anyone else.

“Rebecca, you’re right on schedule,” the Baron acknowledged her entry, and Oscar recognized her as the Baron’s younger daughter. “I was just explaining the position to our newest member of the staff.” 

Rebecca frowned, glancing at Oscar before turning back to her father. “This is ridiculous. I have told you several times that this is unnecessary and I do not need someone to simply follow me around.” Oscar was beginning to feel uncomfortable, as he slowly realized that he had no idea what he signed up for.

“I refuse to have you parading around the city alone, as I have said time and time again,” the Baron snapped, and as Rebecca went to say another word, he gave her a sharp glare. “This is the last I will hear of it.”

The Baron turned back to Oscar. “The position was intentionally mislabeled, to ward off those with poor intentions against my daughter. Your primary role will be the protection of my daughter.”

“A babysitter,” Rebecca muttered, crossing her arms.

“A bodyguard,” the Baron corrected, sending another sharp glance at Rebecca. “The world is a dangerous place for an unmarried young woman, I need someone there to watch over her. Do you accept the position?” He asked Oscar.

Oscar nodded. “I do, sir,” he said. The current situation was vastly different than what he had anticipated, but the same had happened on so many other missions. Generally, the best he could do was adapt, complete the mission, and hope for the best.

The Baron nodded. “Good. Eugene will show you to your new quarters, and you will report to him tomorrow to get started.” He said seriously, waving his hand. “You are dismissed. Rebecca - a word.” He added, his attention now turned towards Rebecca.

Oscar bowed slightly and followed the butler out of the room. Once they were outside, Oscar hesitated, turning to the other man. “Perhaps I should introduce myself to the Honorable Tyler once she exits?” He suggested innocently. Hopefully, talking with Rebecca would ease any misgivings she seemed to have about him. The butler nodded, and they waited.

A few minutes later, Rebecca emerged, the same frown still on her face. She closed the door behind her and leaned back on it until she noticed that Oscar and the butler were still there. “I was under the impression you did not start until tomorrow,” she said coldly.

“I thought it would be best if I introduced myself today, miss,” Oscar said cordially. “My name is Oliver Finn, miss.” He bowed slightly, though Rebecca seemed unimpressed.

She studied him for a minute. “Are you happy with the unique position my father has offered you?” She asked.

The question felt like a trick. If he answered too enthusiastically, Rebecca might think he had an ulterior motive for accepting. If he answered unenthusiastically, she would immediately dislike him. “I am very happy to be employed, miss,” Oscar said, feeling like it was the wrong answer.

Rebecca seemed to agree, her frown deepening. “Well, I certainly would hope so,” she said cooly, “but it would be a shame if you did not keep other options available.” With that, she turned and left, with Oscar wondering whether he was threatened or not.

It was very clear that Rebecca was not happy with a bodyguard, but Oscar wanted to be somewhat optimistic about the future he had at Tyler manor. After all, it would be pointless if he doomed his mission now. All he needed to do was figure out how to complete it while remaining under the radar.


	2. 12th of February, 1892

Oscar was growing increasingly frustrated with his position in the Tyler manor.

It had only been around two months, but the combined lack of purpose and lack of progress was frustrating. He had barely been able to make conversation with Rebecca, despite numerous attempts, so any interaction they had felt jilted, cold, and awkward. He had to accompany her whenever she wished to travel, and those carriage rides to and from the destination were silent. Even worse, it seemed that she could not stand him, even trying to lose him twice while they were in London together. She never voiced her true feelings, so Oscar could only imagine what she thought.

At the very least, he had learned more about her family, but he still felt far from his goal. Baron Tyler was an intimidating man and generally whatever he said was law within his household. Oscar usually did his best to stay out of his way, though he wondered whether Rebecca ever complained about him to her father. Baroness Tyler held lavish parties and seemed very uninterested in the business her husband and son conducted, preferring to spend her time with Rebecca or her daughter-in-law Octavia, whom Oscar had never met. Rebecca’s brother Nathan, his original target, seemed like an honorable man, but Oscar had no idea what he believed in, and whether he needed to prevent his candidacy or not. 

Despite learning new information, there was still no progress, and Oscar was bored out of his mind. He had written all of it in a coded letter to send to his handler, hoping that someone there might have some advice. Oscar had also thought about writing a letter to Tristan, but there really was no coded way to say ‘ _I apologize for attempting to make a pass at you while I was inebriated_ ’. 

Thankfully Tristan hadn’t noticed that night, and if he had, he likely passed it off as the alcohol talking. Unfortunately, Oscar knew it wasn’t the alcohol since he hadn’t been _that_ drunk, and knew that in the times where he did get drunker it never happened. He had gotten drunk with Andrew plenty of times, and never made a pass at him.

What made Tristan different?

Oscar couldn’t put a finger on it, and he couldn't get any of the thoughts out of his head as he laid in bed in his small room in the manor, staring at the ceiling in darkness. There was so much he didn’t know and hadn’t considered that he had been mulling it over almost every night since he began this job. It had been his own fault too, volunteering for a position that was so unlike the previous missions he was used to.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. The only thing that would help him now would be progress on his assignment, and he knew just where to find it.

The upper staff (and generally, anyone the steward liked) had permission to borrow books from the manor’s library, as long as no one in the family was there when they went to look. Since it was nearly two in the morning, Oscar figured it would be empty. Next to the library was Baron Tyler’s private office that he shared with his son. Oscar had seen the whole family go to bed, so it would make sense that the office was also unoccupied. If he could look through the documents there, he would be one step closer to the assignment goal, and hopefully one step closer to leaving.

He had brought lock picks with him in case the office was locked, but a slow turn of the handle indicated otherwise. Quietly, he opened the door and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Rebecca sitting behind her father’s desk, who looked equally shocked to see Oscar. They stared at each other in silence for a minute, where Oscar briefly considered closing the door and running back to his room.

“What-what are you doing in here?” Rebecca hissed, trying to keep the volume down. She was wearing a nightgown and a robe that she pulled tighter around herself. Her hair was down, her dark curls covering most of her shoulders. He had to admit to himself that she looked somewhat regal while sitting in the chair.

Oscar’s brain turned off, and all he could muster was, “What are you doing in here, miss?” 

“I asked you first!” Rebecca whisper-exclaimed. “It’s nearly two in the morning, and you’re not supposed to be in here.”

“Neither are you,” Oscar said as he walked towards the desk. “...miss.”

Rebecca stared at him flatly. “Touche, Mr. Finn,” she sighed. “It appears we are at an impasse since we are both trespassing.”

“I agree, miss.”

“You don’t need to keep using ‘miss’,” Rebecca corrected. “I understand that it’s a formality, but we cannot have a normal conversation if you keep using that.”

“So we’re going to have a conversation?” Oscar asked, his response coming out more sarcastic than he would have preferred. “I apologize for the way that-”

Rebecca shook her head. “No, I have been rude, I know that. I owe you an apology for that, I understand you were just doing your job and I was making it terribly difficult.” She looked down, guiltily. “I was hoping that you would resign from your post if I proved to be too troublesome, but I think you might be just as stubborn as I am.”

Oscar shrugged. “Perhaps, but if I resigned, your father would probably just hire someone else.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “The whole thing is ridiculous, it’s not like I venture into the city often or at night.”

“Your father is just trying to protect you,” Oscar reasoned.

Rebecca scoffed. “My father only cares about whether I improve his image or not. It would look very bad if his daughter died alone and unprotected in London.”

“I think it would also be bad to die alone in London,” Oscar mused, hesitating. “Are you insinuating that my position is to die with you if we get attacked in London?”

Rebecca smiled hesitantly. “I thought your job would make sure we wouldn’t.”

“It would be easier if the person I was trying to protect stopped avoiding me.”

“I apologize for that,” Rebecca said, looking down. “But I doubt I would be attacked in daylight in the middle of London.”

Oscar shrugged. “Believe me, there are dangers everywhere.” He looked down at the desk, trying to see what Rebecca was doing.

Rebecca must have noticed since she interrupted his train of thought. “It might be more productive if you asked, Mr. Finn,” she spoke softly.

“Oliver is fine,” Oscar corrected, “and I was just wondering what you were looking at.”

Rebecca’s brow furrowed for a moment before she answered. “If you must know, I am trying to educate myself on current events and politics, and this is the only place in the manor that has those materials.” Oscar opened his mouth to speak, but Rebecca cut him off. “I know it isn’t my place and that it is simply not a ‘woman’s concern,’ but if I am living in this country I think I should understand what is going on.”

“I wasn’t going to say you were wrong.” 

Rebecca looked surprised. “Oh,” she said, hesitating, “it’s just that I have been told several times not to concern myself or that I am simply not smart enough to understand.”

“I think you’re plenty smart.”

“You barely know me.”

“But I know how much you read, and write, and you’re smart enough to care about what’s going on,” Oscar explained. “Sticking your head in the sand doesn’t help anyone.”

“I try my best,” Rebecca shrugged, “but this has turned into my only option for now. You never answered my first question, by the way - what are you doing here?”

Oscar decided to be honest. “Similar to you, I supposed. I was looking for some reading material and this was the only place that had it.”

“Hm.” Rebecca nodded. “Politics? Is that why you took the job?”

“What?”

“The valet job, you were overqualified for such a position.” Rebecca pointed out. “Are you looking to get ahead?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Rebecca.” Oscar frowned.

“I think you do. I just want to know what game you are trying to play, if any,” Rebecca shrugged.

Oscar sighed. “It’s more complicated than that, but yes, I applied because I was interested in the politics of your family.” He said, choosing to be honest. “You’re very good, didja know that?”

“You flatter me, Oliver,” Rebecca said as she looked down at one of the papers. “If you’re truly that curious, I think my father makes his politics very clear.”

“But what about your brother?”

Rebecca frowned. “Nathan and my father...they don’t agree on much. I’m surprised they can share an office.”

“Does he still plan on running?” Oscar asked.

“Nathan does, yes. My mother wants my father to settle down now that Nathan’s running, so we will see what happens in July.” Rebecca shrugged. “Was that all you wanted to know?”

“For now, I suppose so,” Oscar hesitated. “If you want, I can bring the paper to your room regularly. It’ll be a day off since your father and brother get it first but it’s better than sneaking in here late at night.”

“That’s very kind of you, Oliver,” Rebecca smiled. “Thank you, that would...make things easier. I would not have to feed this fireplace, for starters. How are you not cold? It’s February and your sleeves are rolled up.” She asked as she pulled her robe tighter around herself.

Oscar shrugged. “I don’t know, but I don’t mind.” The grandfather clock chimed, reminding both of them of the early hour. “Are you planning on staying longer, or would you like to be walked back?”

Rebecca sighed. “I suppose it is rather late,” she said, standing up and tidying things up on the desk.

They walked back to Rebecca’s room in silence, as to not alert anyone else of their presence. When they reached her room, Oscar wished her goodnight and noticed a peculiar smile on her face. “What?” He asked. 

“Your accent changes sometimes. I thought I heard it earlier too, glad to know I was right.” Rebecca whispered, still smiling.

Oscar didn’t know what to say to that, but he couldn’t help smiling back. “Good night, Rebecca.”

“Good night, Oliver.”


	3. 27th of May, 1892

London was bustling in the afternoon, as it always seemed to be. Oscar normally wouldn’t have minded the increase in activity, since it allowed for increased anonymity, but today he was accompanying Rebecca, who desperately wanted to leave the manor, even if it was only for a few hours. He couldn’t help but agree with her on that since the manor had felt increasingly compact in these past few months, which was only accentuated by the increasing tension between Baron Tyler and Rebecca’s brother Nathan.

Part of that seemed to be due to the upcoming election. Oscar wasn’t exactly sure what Rebecca was doing, whether she was helping or hindering the tension, but he knew that Nathan and Baron Tyler barely talked. The only other information he knew was that Rebecca often dropped hints to her mother that her father was better off not running in the election. It felt odd that someone else was carrying out his work for the IIA, but as long as his work was accomplished no one at the office seemed to mind who completed it.

“Should I be offended that you are no longer listening to me, Oliver?” Rebecca asked, interrupting Oscar’s train of thought.

“What?” He asked, turning to her. She was dressed in a navy walking suit with her hair elegantly pulled away from her face, ever the picture of poise and grace.

“Exactly,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “Are you looking for all those dangerous individuals my father warned you about?” She asked, flippantly. “The ones that are not there?”

“There is danger in every city, it would simply be naive to think that it would simply be gone in daylight,” Oscar shrugged. 

Rebecca scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I doubt my father would be pleased with that statement.” 

“Is that not why I was employed?” Oscar asked, continuing to look around. “I am sorry if I offended you by not listening.”

“It’s okay,” Rebecca acquiesced. “I was merely stating some of my thoughts on this upcoming election since we no longer need to worry about the prying ears of the household.”

“What a coincidence, I was just thinking about the same thing.” 

“That is why you should pay attention to me, I do say rather important things from time to time,” Rebecca smiled. “My mother is pleased that I’ve taken her side in convincing my father not to run. Nathan has also taken my side, but considering his views my father would never consider it from him.”

“Have you discussed this with your father?” Oscar asked.

“Only in passing,” Rebecca shrugged. “My father and I...we don’t talk very often. At least he argues with Nathan, but I am mostly ignored. Sometimes I wonder if he even deems me worthy to have a discussion with.”

“I think you’re a lovely person to have discussions with,” Oscar said, internally kicking himself because he wasn’t sure how forward that sounded. It was true - he enjoyed spending time with Rebecca, and he wouldn’t mind spending time with her in the manor even after the election was over. Unfortunately, due to Oscar’s employment with the IIA, he knew their time together was limited and anything he felt would need to be ignored.

“Thank you, Oliver. That means a lot to me,” Rebecca said, changing the subject. “It’s a lovely day out, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Oscar agreed, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, which had folded itself awkwardly underneath his jacket.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca asked, curious.

“Oh, nothing,” Oscar shook his head as if to brush it off, but still elaborated anyway. “I know it’s not traditional but I simply cannot stand having the ends of the sleeves on my wrists.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s uncomfortable,” he explained.

“Hm,” Rebecca nodded. “That must be why your sleeves were rolled up when you found me in my father’s office in February.”

“Come again?” Oscar asked, surprised she would remember such a detail.

“You don’t recall?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I do. I’m simply surprised that you did,” he answered. “Most would forget such a minute detail.”

Rebecca simply shrugged. “I’m very observant.”

“I noticed.” Oscar _had_ noticed Rebecca’s observations and had been quick to rectify anything she noticed. He had adjusted his accent, which often shifted between Northern and his native Irish, to be exclusively Northern around the members of the household. It was a small detail, but something as small as that could spark curiosity and investigation into the backstory of one ‘Oliver Finn’. Thankfully, there was no way Rebecca would have access to the records provided to Baron Tyler, and she likely wouldn’t look into anything unless Oscar gave her a reason not to trust him.

Oscar had been paying so much attention to Rebecca and his thoughts that he hadn’t looked ahead and nearly ran another man over. “My apologies,” he said, looking up and locking eyes with the man he had bumped into. Instantly, he hesitated, for he saw something that was very much impossible because it was _Ambrose Lynch_ who was staring back at him. Quickly, he turned back to Rebecca but had a sinking feeling that Ambrose had seen him and recognized him, despite his death nearly a hundred years ago.

The troubling bit was that Ambrose Lynch should have been dead. He was older than Oscar when they were in the Society of United Irishmen, and he _looked_ older now, but it would be impossible, given his age. Oscar was _technically_ one hundred fourteen years old, it was absolutely impossible for Lynch to be alive, not to mention walking on the streets of London. If Lynch had been recruited, which was the only explanation Oscar could think of, why hadn’t he heard about it?

Or more accurately, what if he _wasn’t_ recruited by the IIA? 

“Are you alright?” Rebecca asked, so Oscar mentally tabled his thoughts on Lynch and turned to her instead. Her face was full of concern, but he couldn’t quite gather what she was thinking.

“I’m fine, are you okay?” He asked politely.

“I am,” Rebecca nodded. “You looked like you saw an apparition when that man so rudely walked into you.”

“I thought he looked familiar, but I was mistaken,” Oscar shrugged, though he had yet another sinking feeling that Rebecca didn’t believe him.

She turned her head and her expression immediately changed when she saw the next shop. “A bookshop! You know, I hadn’t planned to go to one, but since we’re here...” she turned back to him, smiling.

“Obviously,” Oscar agreed, smiling back. Unfortunately, his glee fell when he realized that of all the shops in London, he had inadvertently led Rebecca to Spencer’s Book Shoppe, the shop Tristan used to work at prior to his recruitment.

Of course it was.

“You go along ahead of me, I’ll wait outside,” Oscar offered, keeping up the facade of happiness. “There’s only one entrance and exit, I’ll be able to keep an eye from there.” As much as part of him wanted to peruse the bookshop, there was still a risk that someone could recognize him from fifty years earlier when he had recruited many of the Curtis family. He hadn’t asked Tristan about it, but he assumed the shop was no longer family-run, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Rebecca nodded hesitantly. “Alright,” she agreed skeptically. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Oscar asked, his turn to be skeptical. He had once spent upwards of two hours with Rebecca at another bookshop a month ago.

“I’m certain,” Rebecca agreed. “I received a recommendation, so if they have the book that’s what I’ll get. I won’t make you wait outside for long,” she said before she entered the bookshop.

Oscar let out a long sigh once Rebecca had left. If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He had wanted to believe that Tristan wasn’t on his mind, but he had somehow subconsciously led Rebecca to his old bookshop and there was no way that was just a coincidence. Unfortunately, Tristan Curtis, who was infuriatingly perfect, had permanently taken up residence in a corner of Oscar’s mind.

This did not bode well for Oscar. It had been so long since he had thought of his upbringing, but he felt like he had to blame his complicated feelings on the way he was raised. Sure, he knew that men were occasionally with other men, but no one talked about it, and if they did it was with hushed tones and _never_ in public. The most unfortunate part in all of this was Oscar’s certainty that Tristan did not have those feelings for him. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain he would lose one of his dearest friends if he tried to explain it to him.

Then again, Oscar might have been mistaken. After all, he now, _somehow_ , had feelings for Rebecca as well. Once she had opened up to him, he realized that he very much enjoyed spending time with her. He admired her opinions, even though she often kept them quiet from everyone but him, and how she always had that look where she knew something no one else did. She was smart, too, something that Oscar had immediately liked about her.

Of course, none of this mattered. Oscar’s assignment would be over eventually and he would have to leave Rebecca behind. It would be foolish to think anything would come of it, and he knew he would barely be relevant in Rebecca’s life five years into the future.

He suddenly realized that he had been lost in thought once again and quickly returned back to reality. Oscar quickly scanned the area for any danger and did a double-take, for in the distance he saw Ambrose Lynch yet again. He could brush away a chance encounter, but seeing the same presumed-dead man twice in one afternoon was definitely cause for panic. Of course, he couldn’t flee the scene because Rebecca was still in the bookshop.

Rebecca. Oscar bit back a curse, realizing that she would be inadvertently at risk just by his presence. Yes, he hadn’t set out to be a bodyguard when he had started, but he wasn’t going to fail now.

There was no way to determine the threat Lynch posed. Would the man simply ask questions, and threaten Oscar’s cover? Or would he take a more direct, and violent approach? He realized he was stuck in an unsolvable situation: he could wait for Rebecca and potentially be attacked by Lynch, or he could flee but leave Rebecca defenseless. Neither option was optimal, but in the end, Oscar decided to wait. Rebecca had said it would only be a few minutes.

He nearly jumped for joy when Rebecca exited the bookshop moments later, her new book in hand. “Have you gotten your book?” Oscar asked, looking around and checking the area again. He offered his arm to Rebecca, who took it before they continued on their walk.

Rebecca nodded. “Yes, in fact, it’s the latest and last novel by Wilkie Collins, it’s called _Blind Love_ ,” she frowned at him as he increased the pace. “Why are we walking so fast?” She hissed, doing her best to keep up with him.

Oscar’s brain scrambled for a reason to provide Rebecca before he decided to just be honest with her. “We are being followed, so I thought it best we left quickly before any altercations occur,” he hissed back.

Rebecca was silent for a moment before speaking. “It’s the man.”

“What?”

“The man you bumped into, you recognized him, but from where?” Rebecca inquired, and Oscar started to wonder if he should have been paid more for this job.

“He’s not a good man, it’s better that we do not run into him,” Oscar told Rebecca, intentionally avoiding her question. There was no reason for Oliver Finn to know Ambrose Lynch and no real reason for him to know the many dangers the other man possessed.

Rebecca nodded slowly, and Oscar knew she was thinking of something. “Is he following us now?” She asked, starting to look before Oscar stopped her.

“I’d rather he not learn your face as well,” Oscar shook his head and turned back, spotting Lynch in the distance. He bit back a curse before confirming it with Rebecca. “We’re still being followed.”

“Very well,” Rebecca said. “We’ll have to lose him. How far is the carriage?” 

“Several streets over in the opposite direction,” Oscar answered. 

“Perhaps we could use some sort of...evasive maneuver to get back to the carriage?” Rebecca suggested cautiously.

“What do you mean?” Oscar asked, equally cautious.

“If he hasn’t seen my face, he won’t recognize me. I’ll step aside into one of the door openings while you evade him. We can meet back at the carriage,” Rebecca explained.

“Your father would have my head if I let you roam the city by yourself,” Oscar said honestly. “What if the man recognizes you?”

“He won’t, and if he does, I will scream rather loudly. The streets are crowded enough,” Rebecca said proudly. “It will be easier to lose him without me, I will only slow you down.”

Oscar let out a deep sigh and hoped everything would not go to shit. “He’s an older man, probably slightly younger than your father. He’s wearing a tan double-breasted tailcoat and a bowler cap,” he described to Rebecca. She did have a point - it would be easier to lose Lynch if he was alone.

“How tall is he?”

“Shorter than me, probably closer to your brother’s height,” he answered.

“Everyone is shorter than you,” Rebecca remarked, pausing for a second. “That’s rude, I apologize.”

“It’s fair,” Oscar shrugged. “Stay on this street, wait for me inside the bookshop, okay? Promise me you will.”

“I will, I promise,” Rebecca nodded, and Oscar had to hope she would listen to him. They parted ways, Rebecca stepping into the doorway of the closest shop - a bakery - while Oscar continued to move forwards.

Oscar hoped Lynch would ignore Rebecca and follow him. He dared a glance behind him and confirmed this to be true, and would have breathed a sigh of relief if he was not in immediate danger. Something in his chest tightened as he walked faster, weaving in and out of the crowd, doing his best to evade his tail. He felt faster, more energized somehow, though he couldn’t explain why. His heart was pounding faster and faster as Oscar thought of every possible thing that could go wrong, and while Lynch’s motivations were unclear, the fact that he continued to follow Oscar proved that they likely weren’t good. At the very least, any discussion between Oscar and Lynch would ruin Oscar’s cover, which couldn’t happen since the election was a little over a month away.

He sidestepped a moving carriage, hoping that provided him some decent cover or gave him more distance away from Lynch. Part of Oscar wondered if avoiding Lynch only made the other man more suspicious, but the reasonable and more rational part of Oscar disagreed. Lynch had been suspicious enough to follow Oscar in the first place and Oscar  _ really _ did not want to encounter the man again. He hadn’t thought of Ambrose Lynch in years, but he knew what he did before he disappeared, and knew the man was not to be trifled with.

Oscar spared another glance behind him but could not find Lynch in the crowd. He turned and looked properly, to make sure, but he did not spot the other man. As much as Oscar wanted to take that in pride or celebration, part of him was still suspicious. Had Lynch truly given up, or was he still hidden in the crowd? 

He flinched when he felt something on his arm, but he turned to see it was only Rebecca. When he looked up he noticed that he had made it back to the bookshop. “Sorry, I thought you noticed me,” she apologized. 

Oscar shook his head. “I was checking for the man.”

“Is he gone?” Rebecca asked, walking with Oscar once again.

Oscar nodded slowly. “I believe so,” he said eventually, feeling relieved when he could make out their carriage in the distance.

“You never answered my question,” Rebecca pointed out, which made Oscar frown.

“What question?”

“Who was he? You knew him somehow, but from where?” Rebecca asked. 

Oscar sighed. “I’m afraid it’s a long story. Perhaps I will tell it to you someday,” he said vaguely.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I’ve been told that one before,” she said, reading between the lines on Oscar’s previous statement.

“Remind me in a few months,” Oscar shrugged. “I would rather not discuss it with the possibility of the subject still being in earshot.”

Rebecca seemed to consider his offer before agreeing. “Fair enough,” she said, slowing her walking pace down as they reached the carriage. Oscar opened the carriage door for Rebecca and helped her climb in, climbing in himself once she was settled.

He noticed the parcel Rebecca was holding, so he decided to take advantage of that to change the subject. “You never finished telling me about your book purchase,” he suggested.

“Oh, yes,” Rebecca nodded, looking at the book in her hand. She began to describe what she knew about the book, something she had either heard from a friend or read in one of the papers. Oscar listened intently to her but still glanced out the window, checking to see if anyone was following him. He had a good job here with Rebecca, and he was determined to not let anything ruin it.

In the distance stood a man that looked remarkably similar to one Ambrose Lynch. Oscar wasn't sure if Lynch could make see him from his position in the carriage, but Lynch tipped his hat anyway. There was something eerie and threatening in that simple action that made Oscar worry more than he had at this job previously. Had he been exposed? Had he inadvertently brought danger to Rebecca's door?  There was no way to know for certain, so Oscar turned away from the window and went back to listening to Rebecca, hoping that the worst was behind him.


	4. 17th of August, 1892

Dinnertime in the Tyler manor was always the most awkward for Oscar, even after nine months of employment. There were so many rules to upper-class life that he had been previously unaware of that still made little sense to him. Of course, following these rules were integral in keeping his position secure in the household, but he still disliked the idea that the Tyler family ate first while he waited outside. Part of him wondered if anyone else in the household also shared his dislike, but he never asked.

Usually, this activity was rather boring, so Oscar usually spent it mentally completing other tasks. His current task was constructing a letter that allowed him to stay longer at the Tyler manor. Currently, his mission and the election were both over, with the Conservatives no longer holding a clear majority in Parliament since the Liberals and Irish National Federation had gained several seats. Baron Tyler had been persuaded by his wife and Rebecca not to run, which helped Nathan’s cause. Oscar was satisfied with the completion of his mission, but he knew that he was not completed with everything just yet.

His letter to upper management, namely Director Reeves and Liam O’Rourke, would highlight the importance of keeping up appearances within the household, since leaving directly after the election would be very suspicious. Additionally, he would be able to utilize Rebecca’s help for swaying Nathan’s opinion if the Agency saw fit. His other reasons, he was sure he’d never write down, but he didn’t _want_ to leave the manor. Of course, he didn’t want to be a bodyguard for eternity, but the idea of leaving Rebecca behind didn’t sit quite right with him.

Oscar’s train of thought was interrupted when the door next to him swung open suddenly, nearly hitting him in the face. He managed to catch the door before immediate impact but was still shaken by the near-collision. As he looked ahead, he quickly realized what just happened.

Rebecca was running away from the dining room, which was unusual in the fact that dinner was not yet over and Oscar had never seen Rebecca run before. Thankfully, Oscar’s brain kicked in and he realized that something was definitely wrong if this was happening. He closed the door to the dining room quietly behind himself and followed her, walking as fast as he could without running, which probably looked very awkward if anyone had been watching.

She had run outside to the garden behind the Tyler manor. There were several gardeners employed at the manor, who had all done their part to make the garden look lush yet orderly. Flowers were cleanly planted in their beds, while shrubs outlined the intricate walkways. Oscar followed the path, and while he could no longer see Rebecca, he had a feeling where she would be. One of their weekly activities was to go for a walk in the gardens, where they were able to discuss topics that Rebecca deemed unsafe to discuss in the house. Usually, this was just an excuse to have a normal conversation without formalities. Rebecca’s sister-in-law Octavia had heard them a few months back, and almost got Oscar fired had Rebecca not intervened. Still, he had a feeling that Octavia was still suspicious of their friendship.

Oscar turned the corner to find a small alcove containing one stone garden bench, which was currently occupied by Rebecca. Her head was bent as she sobbed into her hands, clearly upset by whatever happened in the dining room. Oscar approached her cautiously until he was standing in front of her.

“Please, I want to be left alone,” Rebecca wept, having noticed Oscar’s presence. She was still looking at the ground, so she likely only saw Oscar’s shoes.

He didn’t say anything, instead merely offering her a handkerchief. There was nothing fancy about it since he wasn’t a fancy person, but he hoped the thought counted. Rebecca slowly took his offered handkerchief and looked up at Oscar, tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Oliver,” she said, dabbing the tears away. “Thank you. I...apologize for you seeing me like this.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Oscar shook his head. “Might I ask what is troubling you, or do you want to be left alone?” he asked hesitantly, looking around. Luckily, it seemed that no one else followed them into the garden.

Rebecca paused in confusion, then her eyes widened as she made a realization. “Oh, you weren’t there,” she said, moving over on the bench and patting the empty space. “Here, you can sit.”

Oscar frowned. He knew that wouldn’t be viewed well by other members of the household. “I’m really not-” he started to say before Rebecca interrupted him.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks, if anyone gives you any trouble I’ll take the fall,” she said harshly. “Please,” she added, moments later.

Oscar decided not to argue with her and sat down. He was unsure of what to say, mostly because he barely knew what was going on. All he knew that Rebecca was immensely upset and potentially angry.

Luckily, Rebecca began speaking slowly and carefully. “My father has decided, rather arbitrarily in my opinion, that I am too old to be unmarried. He’s... arranged a match for me,” she said, looking back down. There was something off about her voice, as if she were trying to mask her emotions.

“I see,” Oscar said, still very unsure of what to say. 

“Oh, it’s horrid!” Rebecca exclaimed, seemingly abandoning her attempt at masking her emotions. “The man he’s arranged me with, Baron George Harris, is absolutely horrible, not to mention nearly twice my age. I’ll be expected to abandon all of my pursuits and run a household, or immediately have children. 

“My father never consulted me on this and he has already set a wedding date next June, to which the Baron has already agreed. Of course, once I heard the news I was _furious_ but everyone else insisted that this is what was best for me. I expect Octavia to agree with my father since if I’m gone to another estate I pose no threat to the fortune, but I hardly expected Nathan to agree to this. After everything I have done, after all that I’ve helped...this is what I end up with? I cannot help but feel as if it is _my_ fault in some way, as if urging my father to abandon his run for Parliament meant that he would turn his attentions to another matter.

“It’s just…” Rebecca trailed off, collecting her thoughts, “I never wanted my life to end up like this.”

Before Oscar could think better of it, he responded. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Rebecca turned to him sharply, her eyes studying his face, intrigued by his statement. “What do you mean?”

Part of Oscar - the rational part, perhaps - wondered what he was doing. He was only going to stay with the Tylers for a few more months, possibly less now that Rebecca was engaged. It made no sense to get more involved than he already was. 

On the other hand, he _hated_ the idea of Rebecca being forced into something she clearly didn’t want, and he was part of an organization that would value her skills. Oscar would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of it before, but he couldn’t have imagined a previous scenario where she would have agreed to leave everything behind. Rebecca was smart, organized, incredibly detail-oriented, and that was without factoring in whatever Oscar felt for her since he couldn’t quantify it himself.

He knew he had to do this, and that part of him that wondered what he was doing was unequivocally wrong. “If I said, hypothetically, I knew of another option, one where you wouldn’t have to get married, would you take it?” Oscar asked, keeping his voice quiet.

“Yes,” Rebecca answered immediately.

“What if you had to leave all this behind, and never return?” Oscar asked again, looking back at the house. “Would you do it?”

Rebecca looked back at the house as well, sighing. “I would miss it, but I would leave it all behind in a heartbeat. That is how much I _do not want this_ ,” she turned back to Oscar, her eyes still searching for some sort of answer. “What are you proposing?”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat until he realized that she asked _what_ he was proposing, not _if_ he was proposing. “Another option,” he repeated. “I cannot make any guarantees right now, but if you want me to, I will find you an alternative to your engagement.”

“I want you too,” Rebecca agreed, “but I need a guarantee.”

Oscar hesitated, then nodded. Even if the IIA refused to recruit Rebecca, Oscar would find some sort of way for her to escape, even if it meant breaking a few rules. “I’ll guarantee it then. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Rebecca said earnestly. “I just wonder what your methods are.”

“I suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” Oscar shrugged. There was no point in telling Rebecca anything until she was officially recruited, even if she did not know it.

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, and Oscar could almost see the gears turning in her brain. “Who are you, Oliver Finn? There’s something about you that I haven’t been able to figure out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something doesn’t add up, but I suppose I’ll ‘find out soon enough’?” Rebecca asked.

Oscar chuckled. “I suppose you could say that.” Rebecca would find out if all went according to plan, or if things went terribly wrong.

Either way, he had an addition in his letter to headquarters.


	5. 11th of November, 1892

To put it simply, Oscar was frustrated.

The date of Rebecca’s unwanted nuptials drew closer and closer, yet Oscar was no closer to a solution for her predicament. He had sent not one, not two, but _three_ coded letters to Agency headquarters, asking for formal permission to recruit Rebecca. After receiving no response the first two times, and a lukewarm response to the third, Oscar decided it was time to plead his case in person. It hadn’t been hard to fake an excuse to temporarily leave since Oscar had been passing off his correspondences with the Agency head office as letters to his family. He told the butler and Rebecca that he had a death in the family and needed to attend to the matters. Rebecca seemed more suspicious than the butler, but he assured her that he would return after a week.

Unfortunately, arguing his case in-person proved to be even more difficult than anticipated. Director Reeves, Liam, even Dr. Massey were all skeptical of the value a high society heiress could provide to the organization. They only had Oscar’s word to go on for her intellect and skills and seemed to believe that Oscar had recruited her solely because she was a young woman, despite Oscar pointing out the other successful agents he had recruited. It was as if nothing would be able to convince them.

Luckily, or unluckily, Tristan had been at the head office when Oscar visited. Oscar wasn’t sure what to feel - he thought that his feelings for Rebecca had replaced his feelings for Tristan, but they had simply joined them instead, which was really most unfortunate. He felt trapped almost, unable to act on any of the feelings he felt because it would be highly inappropriate for one and improper for the other. Tristan was still a good friend, so he offered advice for Oscar’s problem and even proposed a potential solution.

Before he left the office, Oscar proposed Tristan's solution to the higher-ups about recruiting Rebecca. It was risky and would take a lot of work, but it was truly the last option that he could think of. If Rebecca wasn’t approved by then, Oscar wasn’t sure what he would do. 

On top of that, there was continued chatter about reappearances of other known immortals not affiliated with the IIA. Oscar had relayed his encounter with Ambrose Lynch months earlier to the agency and they confirmed that it was him with another sighting. There was still so much to learn about this other group and whether they were to be friend or foe, but without further contact, there was only so much they could do. Oscar personally had no intention of seeking out these other individuals, at least not while he was still protected Rebecca. 

By the time Oscar returned to the Tyler manor, he was unequivocally exhausted. He had been trying so hard to make things work, and to return to his small room with no payoff was extremely disheartening. The only small positive was that his last idea would be implemented, but he still had no guarantee of whether it would work or not. All he could do was hope, and hoping wasn’t enough.

He laid back on his small bed, sighing loudly to no one in particular. There really was nothing he could do at this point, as much as he wanted to keep looking for answers. He was tired and he needed rest, so in the end, he tried to sleep.

* * *

Unfortunately, Oscar did not wake up from the light of his small window, but by a knife to his throat. 

He took careful caution not to move suddenly, should he accidentally get his throat slit, but instead made eye contact with the individual holding the knife. It was a young woman, one of the new maids that had been hired during his week-long absence. He had only seen her in passing and didn’t know her name or why she would attack him. He wondered if she had picked the lock or he had simply forgotten to lock his door.

“What do you want?” he asked quietly, careful to ensure his voice sounded perfectly English.

“Don’t move,” the woman said harshly, not answering his question in the slightest. 

“Wasn’t going to,” Oscar mumbled. “What do you want?” he repeated. “If it’s money you’re after, I’m afraid you have the wrong room.”

“Are you Oscar Sherry?” she asked directly, in a tone so careless it sounded as if she didn’t really know the brevity of the question she asked.

“No,” Oscar answered immediately. “I don’t know who that is. My name is Oliver Finn.”

The woman smirked. “You’re lying.”

Oscar frowned. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, careful not to convey any emotion with his voice.

“I know you’re Oscar Sherry. It was confirmed before I came here,” the woman said casually, adjusting the knife so the tip rested on Oscar’s chin. “I don’t know why you’re lying about it, though.”

Oscar looked at her in pure and utter confusion. _How_ could his identity already be confirmed to her, a stranger? That certainly wasn’t protocol, not to mention incredibly risky. “What?” he managed to ask after a moment, still very much flabbergasted.

“I said I know you’re Oscar Sherry. No use lying about it,” the woman shrugged.

Oscar closed his eyes and sighed, a thousand curses running through his mind but not one escaping his lips. “What do you want?” He asked again once he opened his eyes, but this time his tone was colder.

“Information,” the woman answered. “Why are you here?”

Oscar sighed again. “Don’t stab me, I’m sitting up. If you want to talk I’d rather not do it lying down,” he said, and the woman pulled her knife back so he could sit up and face her. She was close to Rebecca’s height and wore the clothes that the maids wore, but her hair was down, unruly, and curly. There was something about her that felt familiar, but Oscar couldn’t put a finger on it.

“I’m here to serve as Miss Tyler’s bodyguard, at least until she gets married,” Oscar answered honestly, though if he was to help it, Rebecca wouldn’t be getting married anytime soon. “Who are you?”

“I’m Geraldine, one of the maids, you met me a few hours ago,” she answered, to which Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but that’s not your real name,” Oscar pointed out. “It’s against protocol to use your actual name in these positions.” At this point, he was more annoyed that the IIA would send in another operative without telling him. Did they really trust him and his judgment that little? Not to mention the fact that this new operative was infuriatingly careless with the rules that kept their organization secret.

“Well, I suppose you got me there. My name is Lenora, but you can call me Nori. No one calls me Lenora, not even my father,” Nori answered, though Oscar wondered why she broke protocol so easily. There was still a chance that someone could hear them, even though it was unlikely since it was the middle of the night.

“Okay, Nori,” Oscar sighed. “Why are you pointing a knife at me, why did you wake me in the _middle of the night_ with one to my throat?”

“Because I need information.”

“I assume the home office filled you in.”

“I wouldn’t be here if they did. They didn’t have that much information on you or this operation,” Nori explained, though that did not help Oscar’s worries.

He shook his head. “That simply doesn’t make sense. Why would they send you without any information?”

“They sent me to _get_ information,” Nori rolled her eyes.

“Who sent you?”

“My father.”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if his suspicion was true, as much as he hoped it wasn’t. “Your father?” he asked nervously.

“Ambrose Lynch. He’s the one that confirmed it was you working here,” Nori said casually, a smile that was almost sinister on her face as Oscar realized he made a huge mistake. “Now, why are you really here?” She asked.

It really was a terrible situation. He had just revealed his true identity to a member of another rival organization, one with questionable goals and ideals. Worse, Ambrose Lynch of all people had a _daughter_ , one that was pointing a knife at him. She would be able to kill him before he retaliated in any way. The only option now was to figure out what exactly she wanted.

“You don’t work for the Agency,” he said, purposely not answering the question.

“No,” Nori shook her head. “I don’t work for _your_ agency, but I do work for an agency.”

“Which is…?” Oscar asked, hoping for more information.

“The Espionage, Vigilance, and Intelligence League,” she answered. Had this League been instructed to give away all classified information, or was Nori a new agent?

He thought about the name for a moment, thinking of a proper acronym. “...EVIL? Is there not a better name for you to use?”

“And the I-I-A rolls off the tongue, hm?” Nori challenged. She did have a point.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “At least it isn’t a little too on the nose.”

Nori pointed the knife at him again for emphasis. “We’re not evil, we just do things differently.”

“I noticed,” Oscar scoffed. “Absolutely no secrecy or protocol, aren’t you worried?” He asked.  
  
“Worried, about what?” she asked, confused.

“About someone finding out. You’re not very careful about any of this,” he pointed out

Nori shook her head. “They won’t. If they do, I’ll just kill them. That-”

“Is incredibly suspicious,” Oscar interrupted, now more annoyed for the absolute stupidity of EVIL’s policies, which were apparently more of a joke than their name. “If you killed me, it would be a clear murder.”

Nori shrugged. “I could make it look like a suicide.”

“But Miss Tyler knows I wouldn’t do that,” he argued. “It would only bring suspicion down on you.”

“Not just me, but the rest of the staff,” Nori pointed out, “or I could start a very plausible rumor that could explain your sudden demise.”

“What do you mean?” Oscar asked, confused.

“I’ll tell someone that you’re sleeping with your precious Miss Tyler.”

“Why does everyone think we are?” Oscar groaned. He wasn’t offended by the idea, but they weren’t doing that and starting a rumor such as the one Nori suggested would bring serious consequences down on him and Rebecca. “We are friends at most, just work acquaintances.”

“No one would believe that,” Nori smirked. “They’ve all read too many scandals that follow this sort of pattern.”

“This is all hypothetical, isn’t it? What is the point of starting a rumor like this one?” Oscar asked. “Do you really intend to kill me?”

“Well, that depends,” Nori shrugged. “What is your business here?”

“You’re too late, I’m afraid. It cannot be reversed,” Oscar answered honestly.

“The election?”

“The election,” Oscar confirmed. “Which means that my business here is solely to protect Miss Tyler. What is _your_ business?”

“To put an end to _your_ business, which now feels very superfluous,” Nori scowled, putting the knife down. “There is no point in killing you now.”

“I’m glad we can agree on that,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. “I am unsure of our respective organization’s position on the other, but I do not think we need to be rivals at this time.”

Nori frowned. “What are you proposing?”

“A truce,” Oscar said. “Unfortunately,” he added.

“A truce?” Nori repeated.

“Either of us exposing the other will unintentionally bring danger back to both of us,” Oscar explained. “Although we may be on opposite sides, we both cannot risk exposing our organizations. The only option now is to coexist peacefully.”

Nori nodded slowly. “So what happens now?”

“We do nothing towards each other and simply finish our assignments in peace,” Oscar shrugged. “I will likely be removed from my position by June of next year due to Miss Tyler’s wedding, or you could simply leave your position since there is no reason for you to be here,” he suggested, hoping she would take the bait. He couldn’t have her here once he recruited Rebecca since that would be incredibly suspicious and could put both of them at risk. Nori was not currently a threat, but that did not mean she would remain that way in the future.

“Well, you don’t have a reason to be here either, since your job is done,” Nori pointed out.

“I’m keeping Miss Tyler safe. It albeit not what I signed up for but I intend to keep my word,” Oscar said honestly. “June is not that far away. I have time.”

“I know there’s more to this,” Nori said eventually. “I’ll find it out, one way or another,” she said as she walked towards the door. “I was never here,” she added, leaving as quietly as she presumably came in.

Oscar got up only to lock the door behind her and sighed. His precarious position was now even more complicated than before now that the presence of another enemy agent was known. Nori had likely restrained herself from whatever she had planned to do once she knew her job was pointless, but that did not mean she wouldn’t keep an eye on Oscar. In fact, he was planning to do the same, to watch out for any suspicious behavior from Nori.

He laid back down on his bed, only slightly more enlightened than he was a few hours earlier. This new situation proved to be perplexing, but all Oscar could do was hope that it would be resolved eventually.


End file.
